


cozy little outposts

by Uncontinuous (nights_fang)



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, Other, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9861899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights_fang/pseuds/Uncontinuous
Summary: The DOSA incident causes Eve to rethink a lot of things about her life.Or the one where Rockwell is a good friend that makes Eve realise that she needs to move. Ezekiel offers his place. It's not a terrible deal.





	1. Chapter 1

This is all Rockwell's fault.

_All of it._

It's revenge for making her walk right into getting possessed by Apep. Eve knows.

"Don't blame me for pointing out the obvious," General Rockwell says and sips her coffee, makes a face, and pushes the cup to Eve. " _Ugh,_ this is yours."

 

-x-

 

General Rockwell (she tells Eve to call her Cynthia but Eve physically _cannot_ , it feels wrong and disrespectful) and Eve talk a lot after the DOSA incident. You don't just meet your old mentor and let her go again. Not when she's heading up a Magic Containment Taskforce for the government, and you literally work for an independent, more efficient Magic Containment Taskforce. There's a lot of information to go through, a lot of consulting to do, especially after the Apep fiasco. General Rockwell does invite her to work as a consultant and liaison once, officially. There's even a distinct lack of ' _betray the Librarians for me_ ' pep talk.

"I learn, you know," she says when Eve mentions it, half smile playing at her lips.

Mostly though they just _talk_. There's no more rank as such in between them as Rockwell insists, but they have a history. General Rockwell and her are similar. Both military brats who grew up and joined up. Both women managed to thrive in an extremely alpha male dominated environment. (General Rockwell moreso, because she's mixed race, and Eve has heard some of the shit her fellow soldiers used to say about her. Maybe Eve has a few disciplinary marks in her record for rightfully punching people. Not that anyone has to know about them.) And both now deal with magic, just in different contexts.

The others dislike Eve meeting General Rockwell for obvious reasons, but Eve can't explain. It's just _nice_. She's not floundering in the magical world like she was initially, and General Rockwell jokes multiple times about how the tables have now turned.

And well, the others don't know the rough and grit the way she does. The feeling of your heart in your throat, and heat at your back, and the make or break space between one second and the next has defined her life. Of life between ruins and barracks and safe houses. Of bullets and stab wounds, and hands at your throat, and someone's dog tags pressing scars into your palms, and the long hours filling out forms, reports, boiling that down to jargon, and of lying to the doctor well enough to be cleared because there was still more work to be done. The way Eve is familiar with.

General Cynthia Rockwell does.

Eve loves the others. She really does. They mean the world to her.

She just can't identify with them the way she does with General Rockwell.

 

-x-

 

The thing about General Rockwell is that she's always had a knack for bringing to the surface things that Eve is deeply in denial about. She deeply holds the belief that repressing things is bullshit because life is too short and it's better to deal, fix it, or find a functional coping mechanism and move on because _there is work to be done_.

(She's probably the only reason why Eve stopped lying to her therapist. General Rockwell is terrifying when she's personally worried about you and angry that you're lying about your health and compromising yourself and your team.)

Which is why she's at Eve's place the one evening Eve makes the mistake of inviting her over. Eve only does it because she's spent quite a few catch up dinners at General Rockwell's one bedroom apartment... and subsequent nights crashing on General Rockwell's couch because it was too late to go back.

General Rockwell takes one look at the place and makes a face. The one with the thinned lips and very carefully blank gaze.

Eve is very familiar with that look.

That's the look that says Eve is doing something monumentally stupid.

But instead General Rockwell says, "It's nice. You've settled into the white picket fence life really easily. Seems like the perfect thing for Colonel Baird."

"But," because there is a _'but'_ and Eve would rather get it out of the way now than later or never. She now knows there's a but. It will nag at her.

"It's _wrong_. Not _you_."

And there goes Eve's carefully unconsciously constructed sham of being back home and happy.

 

-x-

 

She _needs_ to move out.

She could stay, she could, but ever since General Rockwell's mentioned it, she can't deny that it feels wrong.

It's always felt wrong. She's known it.

She chose to ignore it.

But now she can't after having it thrown so bluntly in her face.

Eve only bought the house because it seemed like the thing to do.

Her parents kept talking about settling down. Establishing herself. Putting down roots so to say. And she hadn't known what else to do to prove that she was already established. Apparently in some respects, NATO didn't count.

So, she saved up, and brought the most white picket fence suburban place that resembled the more favourite of the houses she grew up in that she could manage. Purposefully ignored the looks her parents gave her before she gave her mother free reign to decorate it because if it was left to Eve she would never get around to it.

Which, of course has turned out to be the worst decision she's ever made.

She hates the place. Always has even though she's tried her hardest not to think it. Her bed is too soft. There's far too little white noise. Her security system may say that they're the best but it feels like a joke. The house itself is big and empty, and for all the comfort and nostalgia she bought it for, it feels like a huge gaping lie instead. She's always used this place as more of a rest stop.

It did serve as a good place to rest in between deployments no doubt. Her mandatory vacations were always small. She barely stayed here anyway. Always more comfortable going to visit her parents, check on old friends, and since becoming a Guardian, staying back in the Library, or at motels before Jenkins could notice. On the good days, she stays at Flynn's and he's enough distraction.

She's lived with the fear of her dad coming home from those situations throughout her childhood. Then she was the one in warzones. She's lived in high stress situations for a good amount of her adult life. Still does. Only now instead of guns and bombs, there's magic. And sometimes guns and bombs, both normal and magical.

This place would have been good for her dad to come home too, because he needed it. It has her mother's touch after all.

This place was a good place for Colonel Baird, or rather it seemed like it was good for Colonel Baird. On the surface, it seems ideal for a Guardian.

Sometimes she thinks, it would've been better to at least leave the place unfurnished, because it would feel raw.

It would feel safe.

It would feel _real_.

 

-x-

 

"I'm searching for a new outpost," she tells General Rockwell over coffee. Doesn't ponder over her choice of words. General Rockwell and her have mixed military jargon and normal conversation for as long as they've known each other. She makes it final and verbal to someone who she knows will hold her to it. "You were right. The place wasn't me."

"I'm mostly right. You think you would get that by now Colonel," General Rockwell says, a rare display of the snarkier and friendlier side Flynn does not believe she has. He thinks Eve is just trying improve her former General's image in his eyes.

" _Except_ when it comes to magic."

"Do you want to take another bullet for me, Eve?"

"No Ma'am," Eve replies, hiding her grin behind the coffee cup.

"Good, because remember, I don't care what you think your Librarians will do in retaliation. I _will_ make it look like an accident and I _will_ get away with it."

 

-x-

 

She doesn't tell Flynn. If she does, he'll ask her to move in with him. All warm bright eyed and soft voice barely containing his excitement, and well....

Here's the thing. She loves Flynn. She really, really does. She would die for him. She chooses to live for him.

But she _does not want to move in with him_.

It's not him, per se. He's nice, warm, sweet, a good partner, despite his frustrating tendency to go on solo world saving adventures for months at a time and leave the Library under her care. It's just....

His apartment is covered in books, trinkets, maps, and pages. His bed is far too soft.

Flynn's apartment is a den. Carefully carved for him – the nerdy awkward brilliant boy he'll probably never really completely grow out of being. The one she doesn't want to him grow out of being because she loves that about him.

He'd readily make space for her if she asked. Clear away his books and treasures and memories with nary a complaint. For her guns, and boots, and uniforms she can’t bring herself to throw out. For the hard edges she doesn't show and maybe even her nightmares and oddball tendencies that the others don't know about yet. Haven't really seen yet.

But that wouldn't solve the problem, would it? No matter how natural a thing it seemed it would still feel forced to her.

A few nights here and there, that's doable. But living there? It's just going back to another version of the sham she’s trying to stop. And what's she going to do when he does one of his disappearing acts that last for months again? He's promised not too, but she knows it's habit that won't break so soon. Not with their lives. She doesn't want to have to navigate his house without him.

No. Eve needs to find a place that's uniquely for her, before she officially tries to play house with Flynn.

 

-x-

 

Here's the other thing.

Eve doesn't want to live alone either, which is what makes this difficult and makes her feel a little guilty. She's used to people around her. She needs people around her to feel safe. It's probably one of the other reasons she never really stayed at her own house for longer than three days. But her only logical choice for a housemate is Flynn. And Flynn is not an option.

That or she stays at the Library and gets used to Jenkins. She's stayed back for the night a few times. Despite the vast space the Library offers, and the fact that they usually get along just fine, they will last maybe four days before they're at each other's throats. Jenkins is like a cat. An old grumpy one. He's fine with you in his space for a while. Will come out for interaction and judgy looks. But he gets territorial after a bit.

That and as much as Jenkins likes her, he's still sour over the move they pulled. She doubts that even if they could work out their differences, now is the most appropriate time to start. By suddenly moving in.

Yeah, that would go over fine.

Cassandra and Stone are out of the question. Stone's place is pretty much like Flynn’s. Cassandra actually lives in a health hazard.

Ezekiel…. wait, _where exactly does Ezekiel live?_ Eve distinctly remembers asking, she's sure she's overheard Stone and Cassandra bug Ezekiel about it, but he's always navigated his way out of answering.

General Rockwell then? The two of them get along. Her apartment is one Eve finds comfortable even though it's small. And General Rockwell would welcome her company. She'll definitely have to start calling her Cynthia then, awkward and disrespectful as it feels. The General will emotionally blackmail her into it.

 _No_. The others are sore about the fact they meet on a weekly basis. (Well at least that's what Eve has told them to lessen her own headache.) They may stage an intervention if she starts living with the General.

Also General Rockwell won't be able to pretend plausible deniability with regards to the Library. That's not something either woman want.

Guess that means Eve will have to deal with living alone. Which okay.

 _Okay_.

Eve can deal like the adult she is.

 

-x-

 

"You're adorable," General Rockwell tells her when Eve informs the General about this decision, gaze carefully blank and voice dripping with enough sarcasm that it's practically syrup.

Eve groans, places her head between her arms on the cafe table they're at, and decides that her former mentor and general is absolutely evil and of no help.

"What, were you expecting a cookie?"

Eve should say something. Probably about how at least she wasn't possessed by an evil Egyptian god. But General Rockwell might actually shoot her.

 

-x-

 

Living with Jenkins is out of the question. But talking to him helps. Even if it will end up being talking _at_ him. Jenkins has this air about him. Whether he says anything or not, if you talk about a problem in his presence, a solution will present itself.

She swears him to secrecy while lamenting about her failed house hunting. He provides tea, hums and putters about, and politely pretends that he's listening. Occasionally, he'll offer a cutting remark. It's their thing. It's nice. She stopped doing it with him for a while after the Apep incident because he was still, understandably, a little angry.

The house hunting is going terribly. Every place she sees is either a replica of what she's trying to escape or a health hazard like Cassandra’s apartment. Neither ideal choices.

“You're house hunting?” Ezekiel pops up behind her to ask nearly startling her. “Why?”

She groans. Of all the people to find out it has to be him. Sure, it could be worse. It could be _Flynn_. But Ezekiel will tell Cassandra, and it'll make it's its way to Jake, and this is going to end up in another awkward ' _let's cheer Eve up_ ' pseudo-outing.

No, now that Flynn is back, they'll go straight to him to confront him. At least Ezekiel will. He's oddly protective of her in a weird way.

“Colonel Baird needed a change,” Jenkins answers for her.

“So, move in with Flynn. The two of you are practically married and ridiculously sappy anyway,” Ezekiel shrugs, steals her tea, and gives her one of his huge grins. The one that is designed to annoy people on sight.

(She once asked him if he practiced it every day. He just grinned harder and said _yes_ in a tone so infuriating it was meant to incite the other person into wanting to punch him.)

"I, uh," she still hasn't prepared an answer. ' _It's too soon_ ,' feels like a lie considering they've faced the prospect of living together in the past, and either one of them dying. ' _I'm not ready yet_ ,' is a similar landmine. ' _I need my space_ ,' is also something of a lie considering her ideal situation includes a like minded housemate.

"Ah," Ezekiel must notice _something_ because he changes tracks immediately and drops all further enquiry into why she doesn't want to move in with Flynn. Bless him. "Looking for something in New York or Portland?"

"Either works honestly."

"And you've still had no luck?"

"Too white picket-fenced." It slips out and Eve mentally curses.

"Ah," Ezekiel notes again. Eve turns to threaten him about not saying anything but stops. Ezekiel is looking at her thoughtfully. There's _something_ in his gaze that simultaneously irks Eve and calms her. Like he _gets_ it. And isn't that annoying because this is _Ezekiel Jones_.

(But it's scary all the same because Ezekiel is _too fucking young_ to get it. And it makes Eve feel far too protective and helpless over things she cannot change for him.)

"You know," he says again a little hesitantly, almost like his own words surprise him, "if you really need to get out right away for whatever reason, you could move in with me. I have space, and it's not like I'm using the whole place. And I live like fifteen minutes away from the Annex so that's always a bonus."

Jenkins looks taken aback. Eve is glad she's not the only surprised by that revelation. This is the first time Ezekiel has volunteered information about where he lives. Let alone to _offer_ for her to stay with him.

He must take their looks the wrong way. That or his brain has fully caught up with what he said because he immediately continues. It's almost cute because Ezekiel is clearly one step away from visible flailing. "Eh, you don't have to. Just throwing it out there as an option. I'm sure Stone and Cassandra would offer too, but Stone's apartment is tiny and Cassandra lives in an actual death trap."

Eve makes another face at the mention of Cassandra's apartment, "She should move out, I keep telling her."

Now he's back in familiar territory, because he too makes a face. "She thinks it's _charming_ and _fragile_ , and cute. Which yeah, maybe I can vouch for cute. But that was before plaster fell on her bed. While she was in it."

Ezekiel's tone speaks volumes, and he has the look of a particularly frustrated puppy. Eve wonders whether she's the only one Ezekiel has offered his place too. Him trying to get Cassandra to move in with him makes a lot of sense. They're mostly in each other’s pockets when they're in the Library, or outside.

Actually, there's a strong chance that Cassandra was not alone when her plaster fell, but Eve's not going to ask. It's just better for everyone involved.

"Anyway, about my place," Ezekiel says, "think about it."

"I will. Thanks for the offer, Jones."

Ezekiel raises the cup of tea, smiles at her, and then drains it before sauntering off with the donuts she brought in. Eve takes a moment before she realises what happened, and goes after him because honestly those were for everyone and she doesn't want him finishing them.

 

-x-

 

"Any luck this time?" General Rockwell asks her while handing her coffee when Eve rushes in late for their weekly breakfast.

"If you mean the realtor being a slimy asshole who was more interested in getting into my pants than showing me a viable option counts as luck, then well."

"I'm guessing you told him you were former military and that just turned him on further?"

"Pretty much."

General Rockwell holds her cup of coffee up. Eve toasts and gets to share a blissful moment of solidarity with someone who gets how frustrating it is to be unable to _punch_ someone who clearly deserves it.

"You know there's a range nearby," General Rockwell offers and brightens Eve's day.

"Have I mentioned how happy I am that you're back in my life, General?"

"You've implied it, yes."


	2. Chapter 2

 

It's another two frustrating weeks before Ezekiel reiterates his offer.

She's still not found a place and now that she's consciously aware that her old living space is _wrong_ she's itching to get away. She may have also skipped a few breakfast meetings with General Rockwell to meet a realtor who never shows up and which finally turned up nothing. It's soured her mood further.

Jake and Cassandra are out somewhere. Eve doesn't know where. They left as soon as she got in. Flynn is still finishing his morning rounds in the Library with Cal, and Eve is thankful because he will notice and she's too snappy right now to deal with him. Jenkins has thankfully left her tea and gone to do whatever he does.

Eve's grateful to be alone right now. It gives her time to settle herself.

Then, as if to spite her, Ezekiel walks in, his usual noisy cheerful self. He takes one look at her, the smile falls, and he changes his route. "You, me, out, _now_ ," he says urgently.

"Jenkins, Baird and me are going out for coffee," he yells and then proceeds to _physically_ try to drag her behind him. Eve raises an eyebrow at his antics.

"Trust me," he says, soft and gentle, and _firm_ , like you'd talk to someone who's found themselves in the middle of a warzone. Eve melts a little and goes along with it for that tone of voice alone.

He leads her to his bike and hands her a helmet.

Eve gets on.

 

-x-

 

Ezekiel stops at a place that screams “Hipster” and “Mom & Pop” at the same time, whose name Eve vaguely recognises on the takeaway coffee cups Stone brings. Ezekiel snorts at her expression, "Yeah, I know. I have still not stopped giving him shit about it. But they make some fantastic coffee and their tea collection could rival Jenkins. Come on."

While she's still in no mood to deal with anyone right now, her curiosity is piqued enough to follow Jones. He picks a table outside that's far enough to give them privacy, and a good eye-line of all their surroundings and to people watch. He catches her looking and shrugs, calls over one of the two waitstaff on the premises and rattles off an order for enough food to make Eve feel green. "You can't possibly eat that much," she tells him as the waiter comes back immediately with the tea and coffee.

"Watch me." At her look, he shrugs again. "Some's for you, and I plan to take something back for Jenkins, and for Cassie and Jake if they get back early."

"Flynn?"

"I have to feed him?"

"Ezekiel!"

" _Fine_ , I'll take a sandwich for him too," he's clearly not happy about it because he's actually pouting. _Pouting_.

Eve has to deal with a five year old, _God_.

Then, after getting it out of his system, he asks, "But enough of that, how much help do you need with the body and the clean up?"

Eve should've waited on drinking her coffee. She should've. Because its nice, but now her first memory of it is going to coloured with the fact that she nearly died choking on it and the expression on Ezekiel's face.

He's laughing now, but _he was serious_. That's the problem.

"Jones, what is wrong with you?" she tells him once she's done coughing and wiping off her spilled coffee.

Ezekiel doesn't answer, just smiles brightly as the food comes to the table, and digs in right away. After he's swallowed, rather inhaled, a few bites, he looks up again, "So, you wanna tell me why you looked liked you just murdered someone?"

"I didn't look like that."

The stare Ezekiel gives her is so frighteningly similar to General Rockwell's that Eve caves immediately before her brain catches up. "Bad meeting with a realtor. One of many. Sorry for worrying you."

"You really need to get out of your place, huh?"

Eve groans. This is playing out a lot like the Cliff Notes version of her breakfast meetings with General Rockwell.

"You know my offer still stands. I still have a lot of space I'm not using. And it doesn't have to be permanent. You could just move in until you find a place that fits."

He's serious again.

Eve bites her lip considering the offer. It depends on where Ezekiel lives. As nice as it is, Ezekiel loves fancy things. He's made no secret about it. His place is big, and that's by Ezekiel's standards. It's going to be enormous. Lined with all the luxuries of the world.

Eve likes the finer things yes, but not on a permanent basis. Moving from white picket fence to lavishness is not exactly what she's looking for.

"Do you wanna see the place, before you say anything?" Ezekiel asks.

"You sure you want me coming over?"

Ezekiel looks confused.

"You haven't really been forthcoming about _where_ you stay."

Ezekiel fidgets at that. Eve narrows her gaze at him, "Jones. _Where do you stay_? Actually no, you know what, let's go take a look right now. I need to see it if I'm gonna move in."

He sighs and gets up, and actually _pouts_ , _again_. "Don't make it sound suspicious before you even see it. Anyway, give me five. I'll tell them to pack the rest of the food to go, and we'll come and collect it on the way back."

 

-x-

 

"You have got to be _kidding_ me."

When Ezekiel said he stayed fifteen minutes away from the Annex, Eve assumed it was fifteen minutes into the city. Instead Ezekiel took them to the outskirts and Eve couldn't see _anything_. Then Ezekiel stopped outside what looked like an abandoned factory. He got off the bike to open the gates, cringed at the look on Eve's face, and then _still_ drove them in.

"I know it looks bad." His hands are out in front of him and his voice is clearly an attempt to be calming. It fails terribly.

"This is worst than Cassandra's place, and that place could come down any second."

Because honestly, she was fine worrying only about Cassandra. But Ezekiel is literally crashing at an abandoned factory of all things and this is worrying on a whole new level. No wonder he was cagey about where he lived.

Ezekiel looks insulted. "Don't knock it until you see the inside, Baird." He walks toward one of the large gates. Eve hesitates. The place genuinely looks like an even bigger death trap than the one Cassandra stays in mixed with something right out of a B Horror movie.

She's going to need to have words with Ezekiel later. A _lot_ of them. And then she's going to drag him to live with her until he gets a habitable place, whether he likes it or not.

"I'm serious," he calls out as the gate goes up. On it's own. With a lot of relative ease for something that looks close to rusted shut. Eve follows, still dubious, but equally curious. If she has to eat him out for literally squatting and inviting her to the same, she may as well make sure she knows the extent of this.

Ezekiel is right. The inside is _different_.

Oh, it's still an industrial building with bare grey walls, empty floor space, fittings and wires come loose, and empty processing tables. But there's something just _off_ if you know what to look for. Eve's been a soldier for a long time. Even if she didn't know what to look for, all her gut instincts are yelling at her that everything is not what it seems here. For one, the abandoned look is a carefully maintained one. The other is that she's spotted the really well hidden retina and fingerprint scanners on her way in. And she knows she's being watched.

There are _cameras_ here.

Eve blinks and takes a few more steps inside. Now that she's seriously paying attention she notes the layers of dust, but lack of overpowering smell that comes with abandoned buildings. It's still there to distract the sense, but it's muted somehow. There are new fittings here and there, which are deliberately disguised to look old so that they blend into the surroundings. And the inside seems smaller than the outside and that can't be. Unless there's been some renovating happening.

This is not your run of the mill abandoned factory.

This is a _safe house_.

Or a covert office.

"I'm guessing the living quarters are on the upper floors?"

Ezekiel's grin is less _I told you so_ and more like a child letting someone in on a big secret. "Yeah and no. There's space on the ground floor. I'd say that the basement was liveable too but that's for the computer towers and it gets cold in there. You don't want to go in there unless you need to use the panic room."

There's a panic room in here. Of course there is, Eve thinks as she follows Ezekiel, letting him guide her through the place.

"The main building has four sets of staircases, but two of them are seriously in bad shape, so don't use them. Even in a pinch. They're booby trapped. I'll give you the building plans if you decide to stay. But the quickest way to the actual living space is through here."

"Do I even want to know how you got your hands on this? I don't think this is any property one of ours owns."

"It's not. It's MI6," Ezekiel answers confirming her suspicions. "Or rather it _was_."

Why the hell do the MI6 even have a safe house in Portland of all places?

Ezekiel shrugs at her enquiring look as he leads her around to the upper floor, "I don't know why they had it, but it was awesome and they weren't doing anything with it. So, I called in a favour. It's now off their records and belongs solely to a shell company that you'll have to look very hard for to associate with one of my aliases. Leaves me more freedom to make changes. And believe me, this place needed them." He mutters something under his breath and all Eve can get out of it is something about soundproofing, bathrooms, heating, and weapon storage. She's not sure if she even wants to ask.

Ezekiel leads them through a hidden door because of course there's one of those. _Of course_. She notes that it's actually a part of the main building that's hidden behind a new carefully and cleverly installed wall, which explains why the main floor looked smaller.

The change is immediate. It's still grey and exposed stone and brickwork in some places. But it's clearly a more deliberate choice. It looks and feels liveable in here. The smell of disuse has gone. Also, there's _furniture_. Safe house furniture, but that's still at least _something_. There's also a huge TV screen that takes up most of one wall, the screens on the next one that Eve guesses are for easy surveillance, the gaming system, and various technological knick knacks. Those are certainly not MI6, most likely the modifications Ezekiel was talking about.

There's also a pole coming down from the upper floor that's clearly out of a firehouse, and definitely not a part of the original building. Eve's not sure if she should ask.

Ezekiel catches her looking at it and blushes, "I thought it would be cool, okay?"

"No comments, Jones."

"I'll show you the upstairs," he says, gesturing toward a doorway where the stairs are. The upper floor looks less drab as compared to the lower one. It's _still_ grey and exposed brickwork, but Eve can see bits of old paint that suggest it used to be a different colour. Perhaps beige. She can see where old offices were converted into bedrooms by MI6. Which Ezekiel seems to have stripped for some reason.

The only room that has any furnishing is what Eve assumes is Ezekiel's. It’s done up similarly to the living room with the TV and screens. There's a bed here – one of those pull out sofa beds, and a table on one end, both littered with a laptop, more gadgets wires, tools, and, perhaps surprisingly, _books_.

"I'd say it's still a work in progress but there's very little left to do. Mostly painting the rooms and furniture. But it's why I haven't invited anyone yet. I was busy renovating it." Ezekiel says rubbing the back of his neck.

"How did you even get people here..." she stares at him. He doesn't answer. In fact, he turns steadily pink.

"Ezekiel, did you do all of this by _yourself_?"

"I may have?" He's bashful, about it, which convinces Eve that yes, Ezekiel has somehow found the time to make changes to this place, by _himself_. Ezekiel always refuses to accept praise for anything outside his hacking and thieving skills. "My old handler used to do stuff like this to relax, and I kind of picked it up."

" _When?_ "

"Some of it after Peru, some while you and Flynn were in the past." He refuses to look her in eye about it. Stone has mentioned that Cassandra and him weren't dealing with their absence well, and Eve has tried to get Ezekiel to talk about it, but every attempt has ended in failure. Now she knows exactly how he was dealing with it.

"So...." he says slowly clearly wanting to change the subject, "You in? We'll have to paint your room obviously, and get stuff, but that should be cakewalk. By the way I have amazing sightlines from the windows, which happen to be bulletproof."

There's space for two people to live comfortably here. More than two. And yeah, Jones will take some getting used too, and this place needs some more work. Jones may like the grey but she doesn't. But Eve thinks she can manage. Ezekiel clearly has done most of the heavy lifting.

And this place? It definitely isn't white picket fence. It's fake, and it's raw. Not even truly a safe house any more. Just the shape of what shelter should look like.

It's an outpost in the making.

Eve falls in love with it.

"And," Ezekiel adds, "If you really need to move in ASAP, I do have a spare futon you can borrow until we get you a bed. Or you can have my room, I don't mind crashing on the couch, until we get your room set up."

"Jones, I think you've got yourself a housemate."

Ezekiel gives her a smile so soft and yet bright, it hurts.

 

-x-

 

"So, I found a place," she tells General Rockwell as the woman hands her a styrofoam cup filled with coffee.

"Finally, some good news. You were ready to crawl up the walls," General Rockwell holds up her cup for Eve to toast too. Eve laughs.

"I _was_."

"Good, that means you have to pay for today. And I'm starving." General Rockwell starts walking.

"Wait, where are we going?"

"You think Starbucks is going to cut it? No, we're going to get _real_ breakfast. You better have money on you."

"You do know that this job doesn't really pay me well, right?"

"That's hardly _my_ problem now, is it?"

Eve suddenly thinks that maybe the others were right about General Rockwell not being such a good person after all.

  
-x-


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve's having doubts. Not about moving in with Ezekiel, but mostly moving out. She bought that house you see.

 

Deciding to move in with Ezekiel is one thing. Figuring out their arrangements is _another_. Mostly because despite how he keeps reminding her about his spare futon, (and as a recent development: a spare bed; although he strangely never offers that, Eve still really doesn't want to ask, she's already decided she'll pay him the cost no matter how outrageous it is) their work always takes precedence. Besides, she still has to find someone to rent her old place out too, shift her stuff and other things.

Also tell Flynn. She's really not looking forward to that conversation.

"You mean life in general?" is how Ezekiel puts it when they get breakfast (well _brunch_ for him, she's started to suspect that he's a ridiculously early riser who just turns up late to keep an image but she wont be able to confirm it until she actually moves in with him) together. He has the audacity to exaggeratedly make a long suffering face while having a milk moustache on. Eve only snaps a picture with her phone to shame him, and because Cassandra would want it, possibly Stone and Jenkins too, and not because she personally thinks it's absolutely adorable.

(Okay maybe because it _is_ adorable. But honestly in her defence, _he has a milk moustache_.)

They're in New York this time instead of Portland, because it's a slow day so Eve decided it was finally time for Ezekiel and her to figure out what they should take over to the Fort. It's what she started calling the safehouse privately in her mind before she slipped up and used it in front of Ezekiel. He seems to _love_ the name. She had to stop him from painting it on the living room wall. She's still suspicious he may do that.

"Come on, we better get going. We need to get back to the Library soon too. The others will be waiting for us."

"Yeah, we don't want Flynn getting any ideas, do we? He already glares at me enough."

"That's because you insist on annoying him."

"My existence annoys him, and he needs to get over it."

"No it.... never mind. You know what I'm not having this conversation with you again. It never goes anywhere." Mostly because off late it feels like she's the go between an obstinate father and his equally obstinate son. Not that she'll tell Ezekiel that. It would infuriate him further and make him rant more.

(She did tell Flynn though. It worked to shut him up. And well, it's nice to see a genius like him slack-jawed sometimes.)

"That's because you should be having it with _him_."

"Ezekiel, drop it."

" _Fine_. But the next time he gives me a suspicious glare, I'm dragging him and dropping him in _your_ lap to handle it."

"Let's just go to my place, okay? And," she gestures to his mouth, "you have a bit of milk on your lip."

-x-

 

This is a little _too_ much.

Ezekiel stares at her apartment with wide eyes. He's stiff and careful as he treads through her hallway and back to the kitchen counter. Almost like he did at DARPA. He keeps inspecting things carefully, like he's looking for clues. And not with the enthusiasm that she expected from giving Ezekiel free reign into her house. No, he looks around with barely muted _horror_.

"Jones," she finds herself warning him because she's just _done_ with him.

"Colonel Baird," he says, then stops.

If this whole thing wasn't directed at _her_ house, and it was obvious that he's trying his best to seem casual, it would be funny to watch.

His lips have thinned, and his gaze is carefully blank in a way that is eerily reminiscent to General Rockwell's (Eve makes a mental note to _never_ have them properly meet because she cannot deal with the _both_ of them giving her the look) as he very carefully says, "It's _nice_."

"Jones."

"I mean, you weren't kidding about the white picket fence bit."

" _Jones_." She's _this_ close to bodily throwing him out of her place.

"We haven't been too much for you right? You're not still being blackmailed by DOSA? Flynn is not getting on your nerves? Are you sure you're all right Colonel?" He's so genuinely concerned, it just serves to frustrate her more. She's starting to second guess inviting him over.

"Ezekiel, what are you getting at? Just spit it out."

He makes a slightly helpless gesture at the place before he collects himself. "I'm not implying anything. As long as everything's okay, I meant it. It's nice. Cute. Quaint. Your colour choice for the kitchen seems a little cliché but it's good."

" _Ezekiel_."

"Look, let's just say it's not you, and drop it okay. You wanted to take some of the furniture right? Just show me."

Realising that she's going to get nowhere with him and that she should just get this over with, she guides him to her living room.

-x-

 

Ten minutes later, Ezekiel's vehemently hissed out _no_ to almost everything Eve's shown him, won't tell her why, and still walks around her place tensed and stiff. Eve has a building headache and the urge to deck Ezekiel. His unease is messing with her now.

Besides, it's not as if she has a lot of furniture in the first place. Her mother only got her the bare basics because she knew her daughter well.

(And it's _still_ a sham. Eve's now starting to realise maybe why her parents didn't seem too happy when she bought the place.)

Also, he's going into her bedroom. _Shit_. She hasn't had time to make it look lived in yet. "Ezekiel, no wait, don't," she jogs after him but it's too late. He's already inside looking at around with a frown on his face.

She waits for a comment, a cutting remark about her taste in upholstery, a sarcastic jibe, a joke about how he expected her walls to be pink or something in a complete antithesis to her, _anything_ , because it would at least be _something_. Other than saying no to the little furniture she wanted to bring, he's refused to actually comment on her apartment. Just keeps calling it 'nice' and 'quaint' and looks like he wants to be _anywhere else_.

The faster this is over, the faster she gets him out of her house, maybe he'll go back to being the normal cocky bratty thief she knows.

"Baird," he asks carefully, "do you even sleep here?" His voice is gentle again. Not like earlier when he finally complimented her apartment, but when he first dragged her out of the Library a few days back to ask her what was bothering her. In any other scenario, it would be soothing, but if he keeps it up, Eve's going to develop a Pavlovian trigger to be irked by it. Right now, she's just tired of him and _done_.

" _Of course I do, Jones._ "

He puts his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, it's just..." He trails off a bit, and then "I mean it does sort of remind me of how my grandmother would keep our rooms. _Hard no_ on the bed, right? Or just the mattress? Because that is way too soft and not good for your back in the long run."

He's babbling again.

Eve softens just a little bit, forces herself to remember that Ezekiel is _trying_ _to help_ , and he's clearly uneasy and trying not to be. "Hard no on both. One of the legs are nearly broken anyway. You were raised by your grandmother?"

Ezekiel ignores that question and instead says, "You know, the offer to borrow my spare futon or just take my room until we get everything sorted out still stands right? I know I keep saying it but it wasn't a courtesy thing. I mean it. It won't even be the first time I've camped out on the couch or used the futon. You clearly need to get out of here."

"Thanks, Jones, but I'm good. I can wait."

"Again. Genuinely mean the offer."

"I got it, Ezekiel. Thank you."

"Also we're seriously not taking anything from here. No. Just _no_ ," he looks at the bed and shudders.

"Yes, you've told me."

"Honestly, you should just take it out and burn it. I would."

"Don't push your luck, Jones."

-x-

 

Ultimately, as much as she's actually decided to be housemates with him, Eve doesn't officially move into the Fort as crash there occasionally at Ezekiel's coaxing. While she has begun the process of shifting some of her things over to the Fort (if only because she worried that Ezekiel would steal her things off to the Fort now that he knew where she lived) she hasn't moved in yet. There's still so much to sort out about her old place and all the Guardian work she does, and there's never enough time.

It's not like she's deliberately delaying moving in with Jones because she was second guessing it, or moving out in general. It's just.... even though she does hate the place now, she _bought_ it. Even though it was done in a half-hearted manner and only to pacify her parents so that she could focus on her career, and it now makes her feel like she's crawling out of her mind while she stays here, she still _bought_ the place.

General Rockwell and Jones have both given her looks when she tried to explain it to them. (Separately of course. She's going to follow through on that promise of making sure that General Rockwell and Jones _never_ meet.) As if it was less about her house in New York and more about something else Eve was refusing to put a name too. So did Jenkins when she tried talking at him about it, and _that_ was worrying.

(To be fair to Ezekiel, he has been remarkably understanding with her about most of the situation barring his unease and hatred for her house, and his confusion at why she's staying somewhere she actively dislikes. "You're not stationed there, Baird.")

Also she hasn't deliberated whether she wants to tell Flynn she's moving in with Ezekiel before she moves in or after.

Yeah she really needs to stop stalling _that_ conversation. She's really not looking forward to it. Or having to explain to Flynn why she's not ready to move in with him even though she loves him.

-x-

 

"So, I still haven't told Flynn and the others about the move." Eve says. She's meeting General Rockwell for breakfast, and both of them don't want to discuss magic. Well General Rockwell doesn't want to discuss magic. According to her, she's had enough of it for the week.

General Rockwell deliberately sets down her coffee cup and levels Eve with a firm look. Thankfully, it's not one with the thinned lips and blank gaze. Eve's had enough of that look for a while. She hopes she won't see it directed at her for another year.

"Is this the reason you've actually been delaying moving out and torturing yourself in that place? You don't know how to tell your team you're moving in with the MI6 agent?"

Eve remembers most of her conversations with Rockwell about this whole affair. She distinctly doesn't remember mentioning who she was moving in with, forget it being someone from her team. "How did you--"

"Don't be stupid," General Rockwell interrupts her. "You'd not risk moving in with a random stranger with the nature of your job. And among your co-workers, he's the only person who makes sense."

While Eve is glad she's moving in with Ezekiel eventually, she honestly wants to know in what world does she moving in with Ezekiel seem like the most logical solution from an outside perspective. It's Ezekiel Jones after all. Common logic would dictate that Eve and him are incompatible in mostly every way. Hell, she knows that Flynn is going to overreact to this. Even Stone. Jenkins is _still_ puzzled by the whole situation even though he doesn't show it.

Her curiosity must show on her face because Rockwell's next words are, "You've read his file. _I_ gave it to you before you were pulled off that mission. That boy may not know warzones like you do, but he doesn't know how to be a civilian either. Those are the only kind of people we fit around."

 _Huh_. Eve has never thought of it from that perspective. At least not consciously. Then again, Ezekiel does tend to play up his cocky brash thief persona up to a level that it's all that anyone can remember about him. So making the connection from that to MI6 agent is always hard. Albeit now it's a little easier having seen the Fort because well, it _is_ a former MI6 property. Eve can't forget that if she's going to be living there.

"Now," General Rockwell says breaking her train of thought, "are you stalling moving out because you're looking for a way to tell your team. Because that is one of the stupidest reasons I've heard."

"No," Eve answers. "I've told you. I _bought_ the place."

General Rockwell sighs and Eve fights the urge to cringe. They've had this conversation far too many times. "You've told me that. And I've told you that just because you bought it, it doesn't mean that you have to stay there when it's clear as day that you don't want too."

General Rockwell takes another sip of her coffee. And then, she says the same phrase that Ezekiel has been saying to Eve. "No one's stationed you there. You _can_ move."

-x-

 

Here's the thing:

She's not stationed there, but there's a part of Eve that's not sure she _can_ move out fully after all.

-x-

 

"You crashing over tonight?" Jones asks as she's packing up. He's clearly been waiting for after everyone has left for the evening to extend another invite. It's become a ritual for them. One that Eve honestly finds adorable. If he notices that Eve has had a particularly exhausting or trying day, he'll stay back waiting for everyone to leave before he invites her over. Flynn's obviously noticed and has taken to giving them both weird looks.

(That's going to be another potential problem for when she actually moves in with Ezekiel completely. But Eve thinks she may find it more amusing than annoying.)

"You seem tired for the last couple of days, and I doubt you'll get any rest in that place."

Eve huffs. He's _right_ of course, but Eve won't let him know. "The way you talk about it makes it sound like it's haunted, you know." Ezekiel still refuses to tell her why _he_ hates her house. General Rockwell at least stated it upfront. ' _It makes you look like a serial killer waiting to happen,_ ' she's said bluntly. Eve suspects that Ezekiel thinks the same, he's just not voicing it. She's learning that both of them think on a similar wavelength which is honestly frightening.

(They are never to meet. Eve is going to find a way to make it a cosmic rule if she can.)

"So?" Ezekiel asks again. Eve thinks back to sleeping bag and the empty shelves in her kitchen, and the feeling of _wrong_ awaiting her as compared to the white noise of pipes and the comfortable futon that's mostly going to become her official bed at the Fort once she moves in. (She will fight Ezekiel for it, everything be damned.) Also she'll get homemade breakfast because surprise, _surprise_ , Ezekiel cooks — and he's a good enough cook to rival Jenkins.

Thinking of cooking, "You planning on making dinner, Jones?"

The answering look Ezekiel gives her is one that is both amused and smug and clearly meant to incite one into punching him. Eve's clearly gotten used to it because she's only slightly irked by it. "Does Flynn know that the actual way to your heart is through your stomach Colonel Baird?"

"Answer the damn question."

He shrugs, "I can whip something simple up. And your bottle of wine is still there from the last time you stayed over."

He's clearly teasing her, but Eve's still the winner here because she'll still get homemade dinner, a nice hot bath, and maybe some restful sleep, and homemade breakfast in the morning. "Then what are we waiting for Jones. You have dinner to make me. Chop, chop."

"You're really bossy, you know that?"

She doesn't answer him so much as push him towards the door calling out a goodnight to Jenkins, while Ezekiel's shaking with silent laughter.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Because higher powers clearly like laughing at Eve, Ezekiel is at her doorstep on a Saturday morning after only three hours after they got back, still in the previous day's clothes. Eve would say she was sleeping but she wasn't. She's been trying to, and just tossing and turning on the floor, staving off heaviness in her chest, before she gave up and tried working out instead. Honestly, she's in no mood to deal with _anyone_. It's why she didn't go to Flynn's ultimately even though that was the plan when they got back.

There was an incident with an honest to god _lost civilization_ resurfacing which was less exciting than her Librarians found it and more headache inducing. And that was _before_ the crown princess developed a thing for Cassandra and the fallout that happened from _that_.

Cassandra who, Eve has to remind herself, is in the Library resting and is going to be _okay_. Jenkins said she'll be okay. It was just a badly applied sleeping curse that wore off on it's own by the time they got her back. Cassandra who is right now probably sleeping non cursed on a cot in the Annex under Jenkins watchful eye just in case. And if something went wrong, Jenkins would call. Not send Ezekiel here to her.

(Actually no, Ezekiel would probably know before anyone else when it comes to Cassandra now. And he would come to Eve first.)

Cassandra will be, no, Cassandra _is_ _all right_ Eve reminds herself firmly. She will wake up, phone Eve, and then maybe Eve will actually breathe easily.

"Morning," Ezekiel says as if that explains everything. "Wanna go get brekky and then shop for your stuff for when you finally move in, instead of shuffling in between?"

" _Why_ ," Eve says looking at him. He's honest to god _bouncing_. _How_.

"Because I'm worried about your health the longer you stay here," he quips. As if that's a feasible explanation, considering he refuses to elaborate what is it about her house that makes him so afraid and eager to get her out of it. As if that's the reason why his accent is currently thicker and _different_ than it normally is.

He's still _bouncing_. He's got this manic look in his eye, and his shoulders are set, and he's not going to let this go is he? And this doesn't seem to be about actual furniture shopping either.

Ezekiel is vehemently against all her furniture and her choice in it. He is also of the opinion that all the current furniture in this house should be dismantled and _burned_. He's made this known multiple times. He refuses to explain why. Eve's half worried that he's just going to find a way to just burn it himself, and today might just be that day.

But Eve doubts her apparent appalling taste in furniture is the reason he's on her doorstep so early in the morning on what they all decided was a day off. Especially when the both of them know that they've already bought most of the things Eve will need once she permanently moves to the Fort. It probably has more to do with Cassandra, (who, when Eve allows herself to be mean and selfish, probably means more to her and Ezekiel than the rest of the team) who Eve firmly reminds herself, is absolutely _fine_.

Well, it's not like she was getting any sleep. Hell, if he'd been at her doorstep ten minutes later she wouldn't have been at home because she was this close to getting out of the house and finding a private range.

"You're paying for breakfast," she tells him as she goes to get ready, pausing only to pick up her sleeping bag from the floor. Ezekiel makes no comment about it, nor about her other gear out next to it.

-x-

 

Because Eve is a nice person, she doesn't drag Ezekiel to an expensive New York cafe for breakfast to get them both out of their respective, well, current states.

Because Ezekiel has _clearly_ planned this elaborate excuse out, he reminds her that it makes no sense for them to buy anything in New York when she's moving to Portland and they have good local stores there too. And if they're going to shop there, it makes sense to get breakfast there too.

"Besides, it's easier to get things into a truck and drive from a store in the same city to the Fort than across the country," he shrugs as they tumble into the Annex.

"You wouldn't."

The answering look he gives her so clearly says, _I fucking would and do not test me on this_ , that Eve is a little more taken aback at how expressive Ezekiel suddenly is. Well he usually is, but most of it is directed at him trying to non-verbally annoy one of them.

It must be the lack of sleep.

"Mr. Jones, how many times must I tell you that Ms. Cillian is absolutely fine, you can go home. You don't need to be...." Jenkins comes in looking annoyed before he actually notices her. "Oh, you went and got Colonel Baird here too."

Which, well, this confirms Eve's suspicion of where Ezekiel was before he came to fetch her, instead of the Fort.

"We're actually going for breakfast," Eve answers for Ezekiel, because somehow focusing on Jenkins right now is easier and more vital than paying attention to the sleeping Librarian on the cot.

 _Sleeping normally_ , Eve reminds herself. _Resting. Not cursed. Not comatose. Not dead._

Ezekiel on the other hand has no such qualms. Eve didn't notice he'd made his way to the cot until Jenkins berates him again.

"Mr. Jones, don't wake her up. She needs rest. She's _fine_."

Ezekiel frowns at them, "I _wasn't_ going to. And mate, you may want to tone down the volume if you're that concerned about waking her up."

Jenkins lips thin in that way it does when he's in what they've all privately termed his territorial grumpy cat mode. Its obvious Ezekiel knows it too, and is provoking him. Probably has been all morning until he dragged himself to Eve's doorstop. And Eve is equally too wound up to want to deal with the two of them arguing. If it gets to that the _both_ of them will get punched.

"I'll get him out of your hair. C'mon Jones." She grabs the back of Ezekiel's collar and drags him away towards the Annex exit. "Please tell me you have your bike because I'm not walking."

Physically being removed from both Jenkins and Cassandra's presence seems to calm him down some because he runs a hand over his face. "Yeah I do. Sorry about that, it's _just_..."

"I get it." Eve says not needing nor wanting an explanation because she does. Get it. And it's just better for both of them if it stays unsaid. Eve can't deal with this conversation in her current emotional state. The last time either of them was a mess over Cassandra, she had Flynn to buffer her. And Jenkins. And Stone.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on, let's get brekky."

"Stop calling it that."

"I will _not_."

-x-

 

They end up at the Hipster joint again. Eve hasn't realised how frequent a customer she is now, until a waitress greets them with a mug full of tea for Ezekiel and a cup of coffee just the way she likes it while asking for their order.

(Okay, maybe she sees why Ezekiel and Stone like the place so much.)

Ezekiel rattles off another order that once again involves far too much food to be eaten in one sitting, all half muffled by his mug of tea. Eve, who's now used to the amount of food that Ezekiel actually eats from her frequent meals with him, ends up having to decipher and repeat the order for the poor waitress, who seems to have picked up on Ezekiel's sour mood and is confused by it.

"I think that one has a crush on you, so be a little nicer," Eve tells him once she's safely out of hearing distance.

"Nah, she likes Cassie." Ezekiel replies bluntly. "Always makes sure there are cookies on the house in any takeaway order we get from here because Cassie loves them." Eve did not know that. But it does explain why Cassandra suddenly has a constant supply of fresh cookies considering how often Stone and Ezekiel frequent this place.

"You know," she says trying for light because maybe if she fakes it long enough it'll become true, "I thought the Prince Charming thing was a _one-time_ gig."

Ezekiel snorts, and sends Eve a look that could mean anything from ' _are you serious?_ ' to ' _you're telling me_ ' to ' _you haven't begun to even fathom Cassandra's ability to attract women, we're going to have to fight off an army wanting to be her harem soon_ '. Eve would retort, she really would, but Ezekiel still looks _off_ that even his attempt at normal banter falls flat.

"She's okay, you know." Eve tells him, because it's true, because it's the only mantra she's been repeating since they got back.

Ezekiel grinds his teeth. And for a brief moment, Eve wonders if she should call in Stone. He's clearly better at dealing with Ezekiel when the thief is in this state over Cassandra. "I _know_ okay." Ezekiel says breaking Eve's train of thought. "I know. It's _just_ \---"

And mercifully, _almost like magic_ , Eve thinks, her phone rings interrupting whatever Ezekiel was about to say and it's Cassandra's picture flashing on the screen.

-x-

 

Eve's not sure what reaction she expected from Ezekiel on finally hearing Cassandra's voice confirming that yes, she's awake, she's fine, and she'll be crashing at the Annex for a while because Jenkins wants to do a few follow up tests with her – the usual fare when any of them are hurt. She knows that it didn't do much to soothe the heaviness in her or how frayed she feels. But for her, that bit usually comes later. After she knows her fellow soldiers got out okay, or more recently for her, her Librarians, and she can keep telling herself to breathe deeply, and put in a few visits to her therapist.

Ezekiel doesn't look like he's back to his normal self. He doesn't look tired either, but Eve's learned that Ezekiel rarely lets himself look tired in front of them when he really is unless he's passed his breaking point. She can't blame him because she's similar in some regards. Although, he has lost some of that manic look in his eyes and is smiling a little, so Eve supposes that counts for _something_.

"Want to take a rain check on our planned errands?" she asks when he hangs up and hands her phone back to her, "We should get some rest. She'll want to meet us later, you know."

"We should. You definitely need some."

Eve kindly does not point out that _he_ was the one who dragged her out for a made up errand. It's not like she was resting before he showed up at her doorstop. Neither does she point out that she implied he should rest too.

"I'll go tell them to pack up the order for a takeaway, and pay." He stops and runs his hand through his hair and looks like he wants to say something _more_ but then decides not to and goes off toward the register. Eve will ask him about it later. Once she's hopefully managed to force her body to calm down and get _some_ sleep so that she can function. And Ezekiel has done the same. Because in a few hours they will probably have a red haired genius to fuss over.

-x-

 

As much as she decided that she would deal with whatever possible new issue Jones had once she's forced some rest into both of them, he seems to have other ideas. Which is why he pauses before handing her the spare helmet.

 _Joy_.

"What."

"You want me to drop you off at the Annex so that you can go back to your place right?" he asks cautious.

"That's the idea."

"You're sure it's a good one?"

Eve's about to snap at him because there's only so much she can take but she cuts herself off immediately when she meets his gaze. Ezekiel has still not totally come down from whatever he's wound himself up too, but his tone is one she's become recently familiar with from late nights after exhausting days.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She'd gone back to her place only because she'd dropped her plans to go to Flynn's after they came back with Cassandra asleep, and that decision was mostly on autopilot. And mostly because the last time she got like this was after Cassandra's surgery and being with Flynn hadn't helped her. Being at his place nearly made it worse.

She thinks back to the sleeping bag, the weights, the oppressive nature of her house, and how she's still feeling like she's on a knife's edge. If she goes back, she'll get zero rest over there. She may even have a flashback considering how on edge she's feeling right now. And wouldn't that be great? Having to come down from that and plastering a smile to go see Cassandra. Cassandra, who won't even need her new mind reading powers to know something is wrong.

And she's going to live there soon enough. She needs to know whether she'll be comfortable there when she gets like this.

"Fort," she says, decision made. She doesn't need to elaborate. Ezekiel has proven to be remarkably astute when it comes to these things.

"Thought so," he says, and it's the first real smile she's seen on him since he was on her doorstep this morning.

-x-

 

Eve is completely unsurprised when she wakes up to Ezekiel also sleeping in the living room. Not that she doesn't love her room in the Fort. She's slept more easily in there in the few nights she's spent over even when it smelled like fresh paint, than at her own house in New York, or at her parents place. There's just something very comforting about this place. It's just that this time the rich burgundy coloured walls of her room felt off and the grey and exposed brickwork of the living room was more inviting, so she'd carried her futon downstairs, and set it in front of the coffee table and their couch, and promptly fell asleep.

(Ezekiel's interior decorating choices suddenly make far more sense to her now.)

Ezekiel is sleeping against the far wall on nothing but a thin sheet between him and the floor, curled in on himself. He's got another sheet covering him. Well most of that is tangled between his legs, so it's not technically covering him, but it's still _something_.

Eve can't help but stare at him while the fog of sleep clears from her mind. Ezekiel looks _tiny_ and far younger than he is, like this.

Also, is he stupid? The living room is _cold_. He could fall sick like that.

She's about to call out to him to wake him up but the memories of the morning come back to her. He's probably crashed hard. She should let him sleep. But definitely _not like that_. The last thing she wants is him falling ill right on the heels of the scare they had about Cassandra today.

Mind made up, she bundles up her blanket in her hand, and gets up, quietly padding to where he's sleeping, fully intent on covering him with it. She can't do anything about him sleeping on the floor without waking him up, but she can at least make sure he's somewhat warm.

She's barely halfway across the room, when Ezekiel tenses up and his eyes open sharply. They glare at her sleepily and confused before he seems to realise who she is, and then he relaxes.

( _That's_ unexpected.)

"Hey," he says, slowly sitting up. His voice is scratchy and the Australian accent she's used too is a little muted and still off like it was in the morning. "You're up. What's the time?"

Eve hasn't even checked. She woke up to the sight of him curled on the floor and was more preoccupied with making sure he was warm.

They stare at each other for a few awkward moments before he breaks into a yawn and rubs his eyes. It's oddly endearing. Eve finds herself grinning as she turns back toward her futon to dump the now unnecessary blanket and pick up her phone to check the time.

It's a little past three pm, which means they've barely slept for three hours. They got to the Fort sometime after 11.30 in the morning. Mostly because Ezekiel insisted on detouring back to the Library so that he could, in his words, " _yell at Cassie for being an idiot in person so that I can sleep peacefully_ ". Honestly, to Eve it seemed like less of yelling and more of pouting at Cassandra while he handed her food, but Eve let it slide. Jenkins had rolled his eyes at the whole thing enough for everyone involved.

She turns back to see Ezekiel yawning as he makes his way over the couch before flopping down and grabbing a cushion. He's had a rough day. They both have, but she's feeling more settled right now than she was this morning. She's not sure Ezekiel is. "You should go back to sleep."

"Nah. I'm fine. I just need some tea and I'm good to go." He says around yet another yawn. As if that's convincing.

" _Jones_."

He blinks up at her startled. "I'll mess up my sleep schedule if I slept in any longer. This way, not only do I have energy to make it through the evening but I can turn in early too. Besides we're supposed to drop in on Cassie and take her home, remember? Help her with stuff too." He stretches and Eve can hear his joints pop. "I'm gonna go put on a kettle for myself and freshen up in a bit. Do you want coffee or anything?"

He's still yawning, but he's clearly not going to listen and well Eve can't really stop him. "Coffee would be nice. Hopefully, sometime in the next hour." She says, sitting next to him on the couch. She can't keep the smile off her face as he yawns again and sinks further into the couch, eyes closed. Can't stop herself from yawing too. It's contagious.

"Give me five minutes. I have pins and needles in my leg that I'm waiting out."

"You want me to make it? I could make you tea too." Eve offers. It would give her something more to do.

" _No_." Ezekiel says very emphatically.

Eve winces. Clearly, he's still not over the last few times she tried to make him tea when she stayed over. "I promise I won't burn your tea this time."

Ezekiel opens one eye to glare at her, his mouth set in a frown that clearly says he does not trust her. And okay so she's apparently " _burned_ " his tea twice, and then under boiled it another time. She doesn't get it. How the hell do you even _burn_ tea? "I'm serious Baird," he says, " _do not touch my tea_."

Ezekiel stretches again, and once again, she hears more joints pop, makes a satisfied sound, and gets up. "I'm going to make you coffee and tea for myself. You go freshen up and come nowhere near the kitchen with the intention of touching my tea. Then, we'll head back to the Annex."

-x-

 

Cassandra's apartment is a disaster and death trap waiting to happen.

Eve always thinks that maybe she's imagined it. That it can't be _that_ bad. That she's over exaggerated it in her mind. Definitely over exaggerated it. Because there's no way that someone as smart as Cassandra would even _think_ of living in a place like that. But then she visits the actual apartment with it's peeling paint, and non artistically exposed brickwork, and patches of dampness in the ceiling, and looking like it's past it's expiration date from falling apart. And _nope_.

 _Death trap_.

Cassandra, of course, ignores all of the warning signs and bounds into the apartment easily, all cheer. "You two really didn't have to come. I'm fine."

Eve exchanges a look with Jones, who seems to be genuinely pleased that he now has someone with him here who understands his frustration of why not leaving Cassandra alone in this place after an incident is a bad idea, judging by his eye roll. But then he turns his gaze back to Cassandra's direction and...

Yep.

Back to whipped puppy.

(Not that she can even blame him. Cassandra has that effect on people. And it's kind of cute.)

"Zee, uh it looks like I'm out of food after all. Sorry." Cassandra calls out from somewhere inside the health hazard. Ezekiel rolls his eyes again, and gingerly steps into the apartment, as if the floor would collapse too at any second. Given the state of the building, it's a possibility.

"Avoid the couch area. You _don't_ want to know." Ezekiel tells Eve softly before he disappears into the apartment in search of Cassandra, calling out something about ordering out. And yelling about how she should just move out already.

Eve sighs, prepares herself for what's going to be a long evening, and follows him.

-x-

 

"Well that was a _fun_ evening," Eve says as they head to Ezekiel's bike.

"Don't _even_ start with me," Ezekiel groans. He looks drained. Eve would tease him, but honestly keeping up with Cassandra's levels of energy and enthusiasm was hard on her too. Not that she doesn't like Cassandra's company nor love Cassandra in general. It's just...

They nearly lost Cassandra today. _Again_. Even though her Librarian is now all right, it still hasn't sunk in. It's not that their job isn't dangerous and this isn't a regular occurrence. It's just that after her surgery, the idea of losing Cassandra is just.

 _No_.

Eve really doesn't want to think about that.

And it's clear that Ezekiel is running on the same wavelength.

Eve needs to go shoot things. That helps sometimes. She'll do that tomorrow morning. "Come on Jones. We need to go get some rest."

"Yeah," Ezekiel says, tearing his gaze from the window of Cassandra's apartment.

-x-


	5. Chapter 5

Going back to her apartment in New York in her current state is clearly at the top of Eve's _Worst Ideas Ever_ list. Sure, there may be others. Eve has had some spectacularly bad ideas over the years. There are definitely others. General Rockwell actually keeps a proper itemized list of them on paper that's ever changing. Eve has even seen the recent updated version. Her being a Guardian to the Library is currently ranked eighteenth.

(Flynn is at eleven. General Rockwell primly informed her that he'd been bumped down from his earlier position at the seventh slot.)

Two hours into her attempt to get some sleep, her success is cut short. She wakes up in a cold sweat, heart pumping a mile a minute and yet feeling too big for her chest, and the lingering taste of dust at the back of her throat. And just because the universe likes fucking with her, her noisy neighbour seems to have come back home judging by the banging and shuffling she can hear. Somehow, the red of her cabinets and beige of her walls do nothing to calm her down, to reassure her that she's not in a desert, or in some abandoned building waiting for her next orders.

There's something very disconcerting about being aware of every breath you take, especially when you're suddenly, for some reason, unable to really do it properly.

She counts, counts, counts, _counts_ , because it is the only thing her brain can conjure coherently before she can even start _breathing_ properly again.

She's not sure how long her panic attack lasts, too disinclined to check the time once it subsides. She's still very hyperaware of her breathing and she can't do anything to stop thinking about it. That's not how these things work.

 _Sleep_ , she tells herself. _I need to go back to sleep. Get some rest for tomorrow when I go back to the Annex_. She would say it out loud, but Eve doesn't trust her voice right now. And she knows that if she sounds weak to herself, it'll mess her up further. So she keeps repeating the mental mantra until she's somewhat dozing restlessly and it starts getting light outside.

-x-

 

It's a slow day with little work and Eve is thankful for the reprieve.

While she'd normally deal with things by shooting at something, she knows it's not the best action when she gets like this. Putting a weapon in her hand when it's not necessary or urgently required is a recipe for disaster.

Once she makes sure that she's left her gun at her place, pretending she's fine while at the Annex is easy. Eve is old hat at it. She carried out raids in a worse shape. Even with Cassandra's newfound powers, Eve manages to get by without attracting any attention.

(Well, no, she's caught Ezekiel glance in her direction with a frown on his face a couple of times. He's too perceptive for his own good.)

It helps that not all of it is faked. Cassandra flitting around in her usual cheery self lifts Eve's mood considerably. Flynn and Stone are good naturedly bantering about something or the other. Eve caught a few words of what she personally dubbed 'academic geekery' before she tuned out. Combined with Jenkins puttering about and the noises of Ezekiel's keyboard, it makes for a soothing background white noise to calm her down some. Not a considerable amount, but enough to feel that by the end of the day, she'll be closer to normal Eve, than the mess of raw nerves she was this morning.

So, to say she's surprised when Stone asks her why she isn't joining them for drinks and dinner in the evening is an understatement. Did she miss plans being made while being too focused on calming down? But she looks at a nervous Stone, to Cassandra and Ezekiel in the background. Flynn and Jenkins are there too. And all of them, _all of them_ , are wearing an expression Eve is familiar with. They had the same one in Las Vegas when they as a group tried to cheer her up. Except this time Jenkins and Flynn are also in on it, and _how the hell did Eve miss that?_

(She's going to have to apologise to Flynn later. She does not believe for one second that Stone, Cassandra, and Ezekiel didn't accost or threaten him. Her LITs are oddly protective of her. They probably tried to enlist Jenkins too.)

As much as she would actually like to go to dinner with all of them, and she should jot that idea down because they've yet to do that when Flynn is around, she just doesn't have the energy required. Not after last night. Not after these last few days.

"Sorry," she winces at the way Stone momentarily looks like a kicked puppy before he recovers. "I really want a hot bath and to sleep."

And because she knows she needs to give them _something,_ otherwise they'll worry and she really doesn't want an attempted round two of _this_. Or Flynn trying to cheer her up _after_ this. That would be disastrous. "I didn't get much sleep last night. So really, my bed is calling me."

It's a shitty excuse. One that she only hopes flies with the rest of them. Which considering Ezekiel's narrowed eyes, he doesn't buy.

Jake deflates, nervously rubs the back of his neck, and turns to the others with a shrug. Cassandra is pouting at her and Eve can't help the apologetic smile. She really wishes she had the energy to go with them.

"You sure you don't want me to stay back?" Flynn comes up to her to ask, all warm and soft eyed, and concerned. Part of Eve wants to say yes, and just go to his place, lie next to him in his too soft bed, hear _him_ breathe. It wouldn't help. Not by a longshot. But it would certainly be very _very_ nice.

But even if this started as a secret plan to cheer her up, which he's probably got reluctantly dragged into, Flynn still doesn't hang out with the others all that much. And he needs to do that too. Needs to find common ground with them Librarian to Librarian. "I'm good. You go with them. Try not to pick a fight with Jones."

He makes a face at that. One that resembles a kicked puppy. What is with them and looking like baby animals, Eve wonders. It pulls a small giggle from her.

She watches them leave. Except for Jenkins, who she knows is supposed to go with them.

"What?" she asks when the others are safely out of earshot before he can say anything. "Honestly Jenkins, you don't need to offer to stay back. I'm fine."

"Not that. Mr Jones asked me to tell you that if you wish to use his residence, he's rigged the backdoor to his living room. It'll change in an hour." He trails off muttering something about paranoia.

"Jenkins, come on, hurry up," Jake calls out interrupting anything Eve would have said in answer.

"Coming, coming." He rolls his eyes. Then, he turns back to her. "Good night Colonel Baird. Sleep well."

And with that he's off.

Eve can't help but stare at his back with a mixture of irritation, amusement, and fondness. Well most of it is directed at Ezekiel instead of Jenkins. At the both of them, if she were being honest. Somehow, it seems like the both of them to do this.

Eve looks at the backdoor which will lead to the Fort for another hour. Thinks of the futon, the burgundy walls of her room, the exposed brickwork and grey of the living room, the sheer amount of food and blankets Ezekiel's stocked up as if he's creating a stronghold for the impending end of the world. Compares that to her drab New York apartment that according to General Rockwell makes her look like _a serial killer waiting to happen_. Sends both Ezekiel and Jenkins a mental thank you as she makes her decision.

-x-

 

It takes her twenty minutes after getting to the Fort to shower, change, drag her futon to the living room, and fall into a restful dreamless sleep.

She only gets up to Ezekiel's soft, " _fucking motherfucking shite_ ". She looks up to see him with sheets bundled up under one arm, while the other is massaging his knee.

"Jones, what happened?"

He looks up, and she watches the expressions on his face cycle from alarmed, to relieved, to confused, to guilty. Finally, he sighs. "Nnnn"

"Actual words, please."

"It was nothing."

"Didn't sound like _nothing_."

"Fine, I banged my knee into the wall. Happy?" His face is a picture of an annoyed kids. Eve has to stifle the urge to hold up her phone and snap a picture. Considering she's just woken up and her filters are down, and her phone is already in her hand to check the time (05:12, is he seriously awake so early?), this is a _feat_.

Also is Jones _swaying_?

He _is_. And he's wincing despite there being barely any light in the room.

"Jones," she asks carefully because she can't believe it. There's no way it could be possible. She's seen him drink whenever they go out. She's never seen him drunk or even slightly inebriated. If it's more than a two drink night, he'll switch to shots or whiskey halfway through 'to keep up' and he's still the most sober person around while Jake and Cassandra (and even _her_ sometimes) are tipsy. And he's always the one in early next morning. Or, if they're staying at a hotel, he's the one waking them up, incredibly and frustratingly cheerful just to _spite_ them. "Are you hungover?"

Because if he is, this is a _glorious_ start to the day.

" _No_." He says very definitively. Eve is having her doubts until he sneezes.

 _Oh_. Well _that_ would explain the swaying. Honestly, this was bound to happen considering his penchant for sleeping on the cold floor with barely anything.

"Hey are you okay? Do you need help?"

"I'm _fine_." Ezekiel says, sneezes twice swaying a little with the force of the second one, and scowls fiercely.

That's it. He's clearly _not_ fine. She scrambles out of her futon toward him ignoring his alarmed and then petulant look. He actually whines when she places the back of her palm on his forehead to check his temperature, which is thankfully normal.

"Baird, seriously, I'm _fine_." His scratchy voice says otherwise. At her clear look of disbelief, he sighs. "Okay, fine, I may be coming down with a mild cold, but this is _normal_ for me. Really it is. It's a stress thing with me. Seriously, you look like there's been a zombie virus outbreak. Some hot tea, some hot soup, I'll be good to go."

Eve relaxes a little at that. It's just the way he puts it. While he's not exaggerating like he would if they were in the Library, he's not exactly underplaying it too. And Eve has learned that the second one is what she should be worried about. His tone sounds matter of fact.

Maybe she is getting a little too jumpy after all. "Sorry."

Ezekiel shrugs. "Slept well?" He asks.

She did actually. Better than she expected, and she knows it wasn't purely down to fatigue. "I did." Ezekiel smiles at that. "Thanks for setting the backdoor to this place."

"No problem. Any time. Now, if you'll excuse me Colonel, I'm going to go upstairs to my room to start my day."

-x-

 

Ezekiel's back downstairs an hour later, showered, freshly dressed, and massaging his temples. Because she's a nice person, Eve's made breakfast for Ezekiel too. She'd have made his tea too, especially since he really needs it today, but after the last few times, she's given up.

"Morning sunshine," she greets him over her coffee mug. "I made breakfast. Have some."

He looks confused again, glancing from the food in front of her to the stove and countertop next to it, before a look of horror dawns on his face. "Oh no. No. Please do not tell me you touched my tea. We discussed this. And I really do not need this right now."

"I said _I made breakfast_. I didn't touch your tea."

Ezekiel relaxes a bit. He still eyes her suspiciously, goes to check his stash to confirm she's not touched it before sighing in relief, pulls one of the folding chairs, and joins her back at the coffee table, fork in hand.

"Not making some for yourself?" she asks confused, as he serves himself food directly from her plate. She's gotten used to the fact that to Ezekiel tea is something like coffee for her, just like she's now used to him stealing from her plate. Him not having any is enough to throw her off. Especially since he's clearly coming down with a cold.

"No, I'm out of ginger. I'll ask Jenkins to make me some at the Annex. He'll probably make me some anyway once he sees me, and some nasty bitter herbal concoction too while he's at it, and I'll quietly add honey to make it palatable."

Knowing Jenkins, he _would_ do something like that. For all his outward grumpiness, the man is quite a mother hen when he wants to be. They all know that. It's a running joke between them. But the way Ezekiel says it leads Eve to believe that this is a _normal_ occurrence between the two of them. It placates her further that Ezekiel is not hiding anything serious. But it also makes her wonder: how many times has Ezekiel walked in with a cold for it to be normal for Jenkins to cater to him, and how have none of them noticed this?

"You know he probably knows about the honey thing, right?" She says instead.

The effect of Ezekiel's grin is ruined because he has to turn away to sneeze, but it's still enough to make her want to snicker. So, she guesses Ezekiel's achieved his goal.

­-x-

 

Jenkins takes one look at Ezekiel and sighs, "I suppose you'll want ginger tea, Mr Jones?"

"That would be great, yeah."

"I should have some herbs that are good for colds. I'll make you something. Give me fifteen minutes." He says ignoring Ezekiel's scowl at the mention of _herbs_. Because Eve is a nice person, she does not laugh at this. At all.

It's very difficult.

-x-

 

Eve is not at all nervous when she sits down across General Rockwell for brunch later that morning.

No Siree.

Absolutely not at all.

(All her cheer and amusement from watching Jenkins and Ezekiel this morning has vanished.)

She's only had one panic attack this month. No flashbacks. She's spent the night at the Fort. She's well rested. She put her needs first. No matter who or what General Rockwell is annoyed at, she will not be annoyed at Eve. Much.

Okay so maybe one of Eve's other main reasons for sleeping over at the Fort was because if her Librarians could see something was eating at her, there's no way General Rockwell wouldn't during their scheduled brunch. She knows Eve longer than they do, and barring a few exceptions, she can read Eve better. And Eve would really, really, like to never repeat what she personally dubs as the _Great Disappointment of 2003_. Or the _Even Greater Fuckup of 2010_.

(Look Eve isn't afraid that General Rockwell is suddenly going to manifest the Apocalypse or anything. It's just that she personally thought that if the General had to go against Apep back when Apep was a problem, it was a pretty 50-50 chance. And it would go to the judges.

Sure, she was proven wrong and Flynn looked at her weird when she mentioned it to him, but _he's never worked under General Rockwell_.)

General Rockwell takes one look at her and narrows her eyes. Eve does not wince, but she may have, because General Rockwell takes a measured breath, puts her coffee cup down, and just _looks_ at Eve.

She _knows_.

At least there's no frown. Or thinned lips. But it'll get there soon if Eve doesn't do anything about it. She can see the General working up her rage in stages.

"We nearly lost Cassandra," Eve explains, partly to pacify General Rockwell, and partly because she needs to get it out of her system too. And it seems like a good way to start. "She's doing okay now. Seeing her around helps. But it doesn't change the fact that we _nearly lost her_. Again."

General Rockwell calms down, but just barely, and then gets straight to the point, "Have you had a flashback?"

"No. But I did have a panic attack. But so far it's been a one off. I'm hoping it stays that way."

Now, the General deflates, and sighs. "What am I ever going to _do_ with you?"

"Look, we both know we can't control these things."

"Exactly. And do your Librarians know how to handle you if you have a flashback in their presence?"

Not if Eve can ever help it.

General Rockwell glares at her as if she can read Eve's thoughts. Well maybe guess them.

"I've made an appointment with my therapist," Eve offers as a peace offering. She did it on her way to brunch, but General Rockwell doesn't need to know those fine details. Although, she's probably guessed. Being a Guardian doesn't exactly leave Eve with a _lot_ of time for therapy.

General Rockwell sighs again and repeats herself, "What am I ever going to _do_ with you?"

­-x-

 

Apparently the General has decided what to do with Eve, because Eve receives an email a few hours later that goes, as follows:

> _They know about magic, and nothing you say to them will ever make it to any file. This is my personal guarantee. So, you do not have an excuse._
> 
> _Also, seriously move out of that fucking house before I'm forced to physically remove you from there. It's messing you up further. This is an order._
> 
> _\- C_

Attached is a list of actual assorted other doctors on DOSA payroll with the psychiatrists and psychologists highlighted, and their contact details. And a partially filled form that states Eve as an independent consultant.

Eve goes to find a relatively isolated corner of the Library to freak out and type out a thank you to the General.

-x-


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Eve's fears come true, but she surprisingly makes it out.
> 
> OR
> 
> Eve has another attack. Ezekiel helps her deal.

 

Eve makes an appointment with a therapist with the most promising credentials on the list that General Rockwell sent her. It takes her a day of parsing through it, doing her own independent research, before making her decision, and making an appointment.

She also sends a copy of the receipt to General Rockwell.

The whole process is totally not partially rushed because she lives in fear of General Rockwell and _another incident_. Not at all. Eve is a model grown adult. General Rockwell hasn't threatened to create another incident. She did not phone Eve to say, " _Do you honestly want a repeat of 2010? I will involve your mother again. And maybe those Librarians of yours too. If they count on you to take care of them, the least they can do is return the favour._ "

Okay... So General Rockwell did _all_ of that. When it comes to General Rockwell's anger and disapproval over Eve not taking care of herself, General Rockwell is downright terrifying, and Eve is a tiny little eager to please puppy. According to Eve's mother, this is a _good_ thing because Eve is apparently bad at taking care of herself.

Eve's mother is a horrible, _horrible_ traitor. Eve regrets ever having introduced General Rockwell to her.

Eve shudders at the thought of the others getting involved. Her LITs happen to be awkward about this kind of thing, but they are _persistent_. And while it would be nice to see Jones and Flynn team up, she doesn't want to be their target. Their combined genius is better pointed away from her and toward the problem, or in some cases - villain, of the week.

 _If that combined genius is further combined with her mother and General Rockwell_....

Nope, not going there. Never going there. Happy thoughts, Eve. Think of perfect shots and good spicy food, Jones's cooking, Jenkins's cooking, Jenkins's coffee, sparring with Jake, Cassandra's hugs, and Flynn's excited rambling.

There. _Better_.

But yes, she makes the appointment. And the fact that she's going to talk to a professional who's been let in on the whole "magic exists and it's weird and dangerous, and people deal with it" so that she no longer has to censor herself is incredibly calming. And knowing General Rockwell, the woman will be waiting for Eve post appointment just in case.

-x-

 

Eve also permanently makes the move to the Fort. Again it's not completely influenced by General Rockwell's orders. Even if she hadn't sent Eve that strongly worded email (and a few curt texts after that, and _that one threatening phone call_ ), Eve doubts she'd be able to sleep in her apartment anymore after the Cassandra incident. It was _clearly_ the tipping point.

And if she's being extra honest with herself, despite her only experience coming from occasionally crashing at his place, she _likes_ moving around Jones in a shared living space. It's quickly become second nature to her, in that warm way where her heart feels full but comfortable. It's almost on the level of those nights she stays at Flynn's place just to sleep by him and hear him _breathe_. But without the claustrophobia his den-like apartment evokes if she spends too long in it. Jones has clearly turned the Fort into the shelter _he needs_ but apparently it's also the shelter Eve needs.

(When she's not filled with that strange mix of frustration and anger at Ezekiel _being too fucking young_ to need an outpost, she lets herself admit that maybe the General was right about Jones and her being too similar to live around normal people any more.)

-x-

 

The thing is just because she's started making progress toward doing better ­– exclusively thanks to General Rockwell's benevolent threatening due to the fact she personally cares about Eve – Eve actually isn't in a better place. Sure Cassandra is fine. And now, she can personally keep an eye on Jones, his shenanigans, and his self sacrificing tendencies (he's an idiot if he thinks she doesn't know and worry about that, that he can deflect with his cocky thief attitude) to keep them in check. Actually, none of her Librarians have had any major injuries, scares, or setbacks recently, and Eve thanks every single benevolent deity, demigod, and the Library itself for that. But while a good chunk of her recent issues stem from worry and love towards her Librarians (Jenkins included), she's always had issues before she became a Guardian. There was a _reason_ for her being in therapy before she, in what she recognises was a stupid decision even if it was necessary because well she couldn't exactly talk about magic, stopped it.

After Cassandra's second brush with near death, the one that mirrored how she looked in the hospital in that fiasco a few months ago, Eve's panic attack wasn't the last of it. Both Rockwell and her had easily guessed that it wouldn't be the last of it because there's a pattern to these things and Eve had been letting things build for too long.

Her issues hadn't disappeared even back when she was in therapy. There's no way they'll quickly disappear now either. Getting somewhat better takes time, it's not an overnight thing. In Eve's case, it's always been few steps forward, few steps back, rinse and repeat.

"It's a start," General Rockwell had said after an exhausting session, voice soft with pride because she knew Eve and knew it was the kind of voice Eve needed to keep coming back. And because she also knew her threats worked on Eve, her next words were, "And you better not stop soldier."

But yeah, Eve has made progress. She's still not in a completely good place. She recognises that. She's not sure she can be considering she deals with the idea that something magical will bring about the end of the world so frequently. But progress is _progress_ , and she knows that eventually she _will_ be in a good place.

After all, it's kind of impossible not to be when you're friends with someone like Cassandra Cillian who may as well as be literal personified human sunshine.

-x-

 

Here's the thing: because Eve's case is always a few steps forward, a few steps back, sometimes even though she's getting help, taking all those wonderful steps forward, the few steps back feels like a huge leap instead.

This is how it happens: She steps into the living room of the Fort in the evening, thinking mostly about a long hot shower, dinner, and a good night's sleep. It's been one of _those_ days at the Library. The kind where nothing happens but you're exhausted by the end of the day anyway. And she's tired. She's half contemplating if she should drag her futon down with her when she's done with her shower, and have Ezekiel put on a shitty action movie, because she's not sure she'll have enough energy to make it back to her room once dinner is done, and she really just wants to _switch off_.

The lights flicker.

This is normal here. She's used to it. The generators sometimes glitch out. (Ezekiel has told her that's not the right word for it, but Eve loves how much it annoys him, so now it's _stuck_.) They're usually back on in seconds.

Except this time, Eve's brain goes on overdrive and makes everything feel _wrong_.

Her heart starts pounding, panic wells in her throat, her instincts scream at her to find a corner, find something to shield herself, something solid and firm to ground herself in case she's attacked. Her gun is out in an instant on autopilot hyper alert of every single sound, including ever single one of her breaths, and her heart in her throat and ears.

This is the Fort, she tries to think. Tries to take in the muted scent of old warehouse, focus on the whirring of the computer towers in the basement below, the dripping of some of the actual old water pipes outside the trick door, tries to tell herself that she's not in the dark vulnerable to attack because she's safe here. She's in the living room where she loves to leave her room to sleep sometimes because of how calming she finds it. _This is her outpost_.

The lights comes back on and it should help. It _should_. But she still can't breathe, heartbeat still more like a jackhammer, feeling like it'll burst out of her throat.

"Baird?"

She whirls around, gun trained on Ezekiel. See's his hands go up immediately, sees the surprise and fear in his eyes. And that's never a look she's ever wanted to see ever. Never wanted to put there. As much as she jokes about it, she's never wanted Ezekiel to be _afraid_ of her.

No, no, no, no, _no_.

"Baird," The look is gone in an instant, and Jones is using _that_ voice again. The one he used a few months ago when he took her out for coffee and first brought her here. The one that feels like it'll drag you out of a warzone and keep you safe. And it's s wrong for Ezekiel to have to use it on her. To keep having to use it on her. So wrong. "Colonel Baird, I need you to put down your gun. Please can you put it down?"

She can't, _she can't_.

She may have said that part aloud.

"Colonel Baird, look I've not got anything on me. I'm gonna walk over all right? Please lower your gun."

She wants to tell him no. Wants to tell him to go away. Can't he see the gun in her hand that she just admitted to being unable to put down? But there's so much _trust_ in his eyes, and the way he looks at her feels too familiar. Like she's seen it a thousand times before while laying out a plan that will most likely get them killed, and honestly Eve can't remember _where_.

"Who am I?" he asks, gaze firm and locked on her own.

"Jones," she manages, "friendly." Because she can't bring herself to say more.

Ezekiel, bless him, _gets_ it, because his next question is, "Where are we?"

"Fort. Safe."

"Good. Now, I'm going to start walking toward you on three okay?"

She tries to swallow, but fails. But she can, _she can_ do this, this is _Jones_. Not hostile, but friendly, Eve tells her traitorous fear hazed mind viciously. He's her Librarian. Her Housemate.

She tries for a nod, succeeds marginally.

"One," he counts, "two, three."

And then he's slowly moving toward her, in her line of sight, careful measured steps, and still talking. Low and warm and reminding her that it's him and she's here in the Fort and _safe_. She still hasn't lowered the gun by the time he reaches her (and later she will yell at him about being so reckless), but he stops just a little away, and her nerves feel a little soothed.

"Lower it please, Colonel Baird? On three again?"

She nods, despite her hindbrain telling her this is a _bad_ idea. A gun will keep her safe. It will keep Ezekiel safe.

(If she doesn't take her finger away from the trigger and lower it, she may _kill_ him, she tries to remind her hindbrain.)

This time she counts shakily with him. By the time he's finished saying three, she's managed to lower, give it to him, and start shaking. She barely registers him clearing her gun and tossing it away, focusing on his voice, still talking to her.

"Shit," she croaks once she's started getting her breathing under control and her heart doesn't feel like it'll jackrabbit right out of her throat. She's somehow sitting on the floor, Jones kneeling beside her, hands hovering over her.

"Can you get up?" he asks.

"In a bit," and then because it's the least he deserves having had to talk her down from a flashback on the fly, "the worst of it is over."

"I guessed."

-x-

 

Eve's not sure how much time has passed before she feels ready enough to get up again. She doesn't really care. If she was tired when she came in, she's bone deep exhausted now. They manage to make it to the couch, and she sinks into it thankfully.

"I'm gonna go get you water. I'll be back in a bit." Ezekiel says and heads to the kitchen. Eve more hears than sees him go, preferring to close her eyes and still focus on her breathing. In and out and in and out, and her heart is calming down too. It takes a moment, and she can't even blame herself for it because she just had a flashback, to realise that she can _hear_ Ezekiel. Ezekiel is normally too silent in his movements. They both are, it's ingrained in them like breathing is. Which means that he's deliberately letting himself be heard, letting Eve _know_ where he is, and it fills Eve with equal parts fondness and guilt.

"Sorry," she says when he's back holding out a bottle of water for her. She takes it and takes a long gulp while he sits down next to her before continuing, "you probably didn't sign up for any of this." And then, "Thank you."

"Nah, don't be sorry. This isn't my first time dealing with something like this. And nothing close to the some of the worst ones I've dealt with."

Eve's clearly too exhausted to not keep the curiosity off her face because Jones gives her a tired smile. Maybe he's let his guard down too much right now, or maybe he's genuinely trying to make her feel better, or a mix of both. "My grandmother, old handler, two exes – wait _flings_ seems to be a better word for them, and trafficking victims."

There are stories there. Multiple. Eve is too worried to ask. Ezekiel's past is a tightly closed box on the best of days, and he's done too much for Eve this evening for her to feel right to want to pry now. But before Eve can even distract herself further with worry over the fact that _Ezekiel has an actual list about this_ , his voice interrupts her thoughts. "Think you can eat something before you turn in?"

As hungry as she is, she's not sure she has the energy to eat or do anything for the next few hours except sleep until she feels vaguely like a functioning human again. It's only when Ezekiel gets up saying ' _right crackers it is'_ that she realises that she may have that said out aloud.

"So," he tells her minutes later once he's set far too many packs of crackers on the coffee table, enough to make her a little green, along with another bottle of water, "the couch is a pull out."

Eve has never adored Ezekiel's interior decoration choices or the Fort any more than she does right now.

­-x-

 

The couch, while being a pull out, is still pretty much the standard safe house couch. Eve always wonders how there seems to be a very specific type that is common to _all_ safe houses, no matter the agency. It's like they specifically shop for these things from one maker. So comfortable it is not. Especially when compared to her futon which has somehow managed to be just right.

It's ridiculously early when she wakes up to a rather loud phone vibration, and sleepily reaches out to silence it, takes stock of everything, including the rather fluffy blanket she knows she didn't have on her last night. Her back and right side hurt. If she needed a good hot bath last night, she desperately will need one in a bit to deal with the soreness. Still, Eve has slept better on the shitty safe house living room couch than she ever has after a flashback. And the top contender until this was her mother's bed.

Ezekiel is lying down on the floor, between the couch and entrance to the Fort. He'd put himself there last night to further calm her down. Not said a word, but the _'if anything comes for you, it'll have to go through me first_ ' and ' _I am clearly not leaving you alone in the same dark room you just had a flashback in Jesus Christ Baird_ ' was clearly implied.

"Morning," he hums sleepily, arm thrown over his eyes. "Planning on going back to sleep or should I make brekky?"

"I'll make it." It's the least she can do after putting him through that last night.

"No. You're not touching my tea." He jolts up.

"I said I'll make _breakfast_. You can make your own damn tea."

"I don't trust you in my kitchen without me in it."

Which is frankly _unfair_ because Eve is trying to be nice after last night, and the whole breaking the tea jar thing which happened last week was an _accident_. So was spilling the new bag and ruining all of it when she went to fill up the new jar. Honestly, Eve didn't deserve to be declared cursed by Ezekiel when it happened. So, she also made a mistake throwing out the wrong pack thinking it was expired and keeping the expired one by mistake. So what. It happens. Ezekiel is _clearly overreacting_.

"We make it together?" she suggests, because she really needs to do _something_ as a thank you.

Ezekiel considers this for a long moment. It feels like he's thinking about _more_ than just breakfast with the way he's looking at her. He sighs finally, "Sure."

-x-

 

" _How_?" Jones says, making a helpless gesture with his right hand. Eve looks back at him sheepishly as the new tea jar lies in pieces on the floor, blue shards glinting in the artificial light of the kitchen among the small little lake of black tea powder.

It's kind of pretty.

She's hit by the powerful urge to _giggle_ , even though she knows she shouldn't, because this is her fault. Again. Poor Jones.

"I'm sorry?" she tries instead, but fails to stop her urge to giggle. Ezekiel groans, puts his head between his hands, and all she can make out is a whimper of _'bloody cursed'_.

Which, well, Eve is starting to think that Jones may be right about her being cursed with his tea after all.

-x-


End file.
